Drinking with the Boys - [All PCs]

OOC:The following is an intro into a pack forum scene that I would like to do. Basically, this is a way for all of you to do some out of game RP with each other to introduce and get to know one another while also giving Jack the basic rundown.

The letter from Odin is meant to help spur things along.

Think of this kind of like the meeting at the geisha house in the L5R game.


Drinking with the Boys

A week gone by; a world turned on its head.

Jack Sullivan sat in the cab of his truck, engine running, and stared at the front door of The Dutchman. It was well after hours and most of the lights were off, but he knew they would be here.

The wolves.

A week ago, on a violent night that still made little sense, they had come for him. The predators hunted him through the streets. He had run. He had felt true terror.

But they saved him.

In the end, it was not the wolves he had to fear. At least, not those wolves. His pack.

Pack?

Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In his mind’s eye he saw Artois, the huge black bear of a wolf. He saw the crazed eyes of the Fire-Touched. The Pure. The enemy. And he remembered his pack standing strong against them.

They fought for me.

Jack could barely remember the shape of the spirit that rode him and drove him to his terror. He could feel its claws in his mind, a memory of shadow of an unknown thing that fed off the deep well of terror stemming from the First Change. Without thinking, he gripped tight the wheel, ground his teeth, and growled.

The spirit would pay.

But first…

Jack reached down and shut off the ignition. The night air was clean and pure and the moon grew fat in the sky. He closed his eyes and breathed it in. The new scents. The power of the wolf.

A week ago he had been nothing but a man. It felt so right to shuck off that old skin and accept his new role.

The door of the bar opened. A wolf in man’s skin beckoned him to enter.

Jack strode forward into his future.


Three waited for the newest Uratha to join them in The Dutchman. A fourth hung back. If you had asked Dean Thorton why, he could not have given you a clear answer. He simply knew he needed to wait for something.

He watched as Jack entered. Dean would be the last to enter. They would talk. They would discuss their future and explain a few things to Jack. He had been given a week to recuperate. To let the change sink in.

They watched him, of course. Each night one or the other would rotate out, observing their new brethren. His entrance into their world had caused an uproar and there were many enemies in the night. The Pure. The spirits. Perhaps even the Legendary come to seek justice for the violation of their territory.

They watched and they waited and they invited Jack to come to them.

He had come.

Dean frowned. He shook off his reverie and glanced around. He was being watched.

There…on a limb, a few feet away, a raven stared back at him with dead black eyes.

It had an abused letter in its beak. The raven cawed laughter. Crumpled and wet, the letter fell. The raven did not take its eyes from Dean for even a second.

Well, that explains that.

Dean picked up the letter and strode forward into The Dutchman.


There is no header. The letter simply begins:

A dangerous precedent is set by putting these words to paper. This fact should impress upon you the gravity of what I am about to say. When you are done, I advise destruction of the paper. If you must keep it, keep it safe.

Na Bath Githul. The Herd Must Not Know.

My Honor is in your hands.

I will not discuss your actions, nor your choices for ushering the newest through his Change. Your actions are yours to own.

Yet it must have crossed your mind to wonder, why were we chosen?

In your previous lives, before your own Changes, you could function alone. Though ‘No man is an island’ that sentiment grows weaker for Man each day. A Man can exist apart from others. A Man can live alone.

You are no Man. You are of the People. With the People, there are Packs.

Some of us are from broken pasts, thrown together after the shattered remnants are scattered to the winds.

Some join because of family, plucked out of humanity when we discover a father, a mother, a distant relative who belonged to the People. Who came for us when we were given our Blessing.

Others survived alone for a time, but gradually came to discover others of their kind and forged a bond.

There are as many ways to forge the bonds of pack as there are members of the People.

You are among the “lucky” few urged together by Elders who think they know better than fledgling pups. Our whims are not infallible, however. We are not as unbiased as we would like you to believe. Our motivations are as often based on political purpose as spiritual.

The thought crossed my mind to tell you that the spirits urged me to bring you together. Or a prophecy, or some other mysterious purpose. After all, I am an authority beyond question and my word alone would have been enough.

But though I am a liar, I did not want to begin our relationship with a lie.

There were no prophecies. No greater mysteries. And my motivations are not pure.

For as many packs that have a purpose, there are purposes without a pack. Especially here, in this city, in this chaos. This mortal realm and its shadow combine to create more purposes than we, the People, could ever manage.

We try. We do so by forging the bond of pack and working together. We shape our world. We police it.

You are a pack thrown together by the unknown whims of a selfish elder and you do not have a purpose.

For your purpose, trust me just a little longer. At the coming moot, I – and I am certain others – will give you a slew of choices.

Assume I know what I am doing. Understand that you are no longer of singular humanity.

You are of the People.

You are the People.

You are pack.

The All-Father

P.S. Give the pup a rundown on Tribe. They’ll be asking him about it, to be sure.

Dean walked in while reading the letter. He gave each word careful thought and consideration. Upon finishing the letter, Dean began to tear up the letter into smaller pieces and ate them. It probably seemed strange to the rest of them, but he didn't care. He took a seat at the table with the rest of his pack.

"Gentlemen, I would like to thank you all for attending this meeting tonight. I would also like to thank Bastion for hosting it in his establishment. We are gathered here tonight to discuss the foundations of our newly established pack and how it relates to each of us. Some of the main topics include: choosing the alpha and beta of the pack, pack name, pack core beliefs, and relating to Jack our own tribal affiliations and experiences to as better inform him for when he is ready to choose his own tribe."

Dean uses his tounge to dislodge a small piece of the letter that had gotten stuck in his back teeth and swallows it. He then clears his throat before continuing.

"My tribal elder, Odin, who you all except for Jack are familiar with has informed me that there will be an upcoming moot that we will be partaking in."

The Elodoth looks at Jack,"A moot is a meeting of Uratha both in packs and not for political and social interaction. This particular moot will be especially important for you because everyone will want to know which tribe you will choose for yourself. This will be a way to interact with potential tribe members as well as providing our pack with some political advantage with trying to garner favors or gifts in return for you choosing their tribe. You of course have the final say in which one you would like to join, but there is no reason why we shouldn't try to take advantage of any "blessings" that may occur especially if there are two tribes that you wish to join competing for your membership. Which is why I am going to promote your skills to various tribe members there to create more of a fight for your tribal membership."

Dean turns back to the whole table,"Now that we have gotten the whole chaos of coming together as a pack and hunting down our last member, we should all try to get to know each other a little better. I propose that we go around the table and provide a proper introduction. I know this may seem a little like an AA meeting but please bear with me. Please state: your name, your deed name if you have one, your auspice with a small description, your tribe with corresponding experience and rundown of what they are about, and your current occupation or skill sets. I will start us off."

"My name is Dean Thorton, but among the People I am known as "The Worst". My Auspice and role in the pack is Half-Moon Elodoth. The Elodoth are the judges and executioners of the law. We are also envoys to the spirit world and frequently negotiate with spirits of all kinds. I was more or less bred into the Bone Shadows tribe. I was a product of a breeding program that the dominant pack of Bone Shadows established where offspring of Uratha were placed in an orphange almost since birth. This way the tribe members didn't have to worry about raising kids and focus on their territory. The children were watched over by one of the Kinfolk. This helped to establish strong Wereblooded family lines that could be documented, watched over, and produce Uratha more frequently. If one of the orphans was experiencing his First Change, it would happen in the Bone Shadows territory where they could acquire him for replacement pack members and better influence his choice of tribe towards Bone Shadows. None of the orphans are ever told who their parents are for their safety. I am not proud of my childhood experience with the tribe, but it was practical and effective. As for the Bone Shadows as a tribe, they focus on death, insight into the darkest parts of the Spirit Realm, secrets, and knowledge. My current occupation is a Licensed Private Detective. I also provide services as a Paranormal Investigator/Psychic Detective. I have a fascination and knowledge with both ghosts and spirits which are reflected in my skills as an investigator and diplomat."

"Now that I have talked you all to death, who is next?"

Jack packed a wad of dip into his mouth from a can of Grizzy he had tucked into his blue jeans. The young pup sat there listening and watching as he tried to absorb everything. He took a pull from his bottle of beer, which was a feat considering he was also dipping tobacco. Of course Jack had always been a little redneck, or as redneck as Utah was concerned. While southerners liked to fancy themselves cowboys, it was only westerners who really knew what it meant to be a cowboy. He had 800 acres of land, and nearly a cow for each of them and a small stable of horses to get around when an ATV or pickup truck was inconvenient for the task at hand.

All of this sounded like complete and utter nonsense. Werewolves? What was next, Vampires and the Boogeyman? The moon, tribes, lodges... It was all bullshit, right? Too bad it all felt natural. Hell, it explained A LOT growing up when he stopped and thought about it. He took another pull from his beer and spat out some tobacco juice into a cup as he sat at the table. He said nothing but listened, his eyes looking between the lot of them.

“Holy shit, Dean,” Bastian said not quite under his breath. “If ever I need the fun sucked out of the room, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”  The giant set down glasses for his packmates as well as a fresh bottle of Woodford Reserve, one of his favorite bourbons. The bar owner wasted no time filling his glass. He took a swig, smiled as he felt the liquid warm him from the inside out, and then took a few steps away from his companions. Bastian had a tendency to pace when he talked, so he gave himself plenty of room.

“Well, let’s see. My last name is DeWitt, if you didn’t already know. My dad’s side is Dutch and the Dutchman was his nickname when he worked at Arsenal. My mom is Paiute, hence my glorious features,” he said has he flashed a smile that often produces swooning. “If you haven’t met her already, you’ll see my sister Winnie around here quite often. She doesn’t have all the details on us, but she’s in the know.”

He paced away from the pack a few steps while he took a drink, pondering where he wanted to go next in the conversation. As he did so, he heard the patter of rain begin outside the bar. It called up images in his mind, images of him standing upon a precipice, high in the mountains, a raging storm beating down upon him – then a noise like the earth itself cracking open. He shook his head back and forth to shake loose the rest of the memory. It was a powerful one, but not a pleasant one.

“Folks call me Atlas. It’s not entirely because of my size, but – well, I’ll save that story for another day. I’m not from any sort of weird cult that breeds werewolves like our man Dean,” he gave Dean a smile and made a ‘cheers’ gesture with the hand that held his glass. “I’m just a blue collar guy, raised here in Arsenal, worked the steel mill with my dad until his passing. Couldn’t really stand going back – he died on the job – and so I work over here now.”

“I’m a full moon guy, a Rahu, and I’m definitely keen on bringing the fight to the enemy. That’s not to say that I don’t have an appreciation for tactics, not by any means, but if we need someone to stand front and center, I’m your man. If shit goes sideways and we need to get the fuck out, I’ll be right behind the rest of you, last one out.”

Without realizing it, he had emptied his glass. His large frame let him handle a good amount of liquor already, but the hyper metabolism he’d received upon his First Change gave him the unique opportunity to truly drink just about anyone under the table. With a few quick steps he was back at the table, refilling his tumbler with that delicious bronze libation.

“In terms of tribe, I’m with the Storm Lords. We’re about strength, of character more so than of body, and self-reliance. Formally, our words are ’Allow no one to witness or to tend your weakness.’ It can mean different things to different people, but for me, it boils down to two concepts that were near and dear to me before I joined this,” he used his drink hand to vaguely gesture to his fellow Uratha. “First, do your fucking job. Pretty straight-forward, that one. Second, ‘It won’t fail because of me.’ Now, that doesn’t mean you are shifting blame onto someone else. Not at all. What it means is, even if things don’t go as planned, you can look back at your contribution and know that you did all you could have done. You gave it your all. 110%. Left it all out on the field. All that shit you hear in every sports movie ever made since Hoosiers.” He paused and took a long drink.

“Anyway, even though you gents aren’t Storm Lords, I expect you all to get spun up quick, if you aren’t already, on those two philosophies. Do your fucking job, and it won’t fail because of you. We won’t make it long as a pack, let alone in this world, if you decide those words don’t apply to you.”

Bastian returned to the table and set his glass down, leaving it empty. He waited a beat, decided he had nothing more to add for the time being, and took a seat.

“Well, shit. You have my apologies, Dean. Seems you aren’t the only bastard who can suck the fun out of the room.”

Storyteller Note:

Try to be a bit more organic as you move forward. It's meant to be a conversation. A way to talk to each other and figure all this out. Remember that it's not as clear-cut in-character as it is out of character.

Additionally, I don't think I conveyed it very well in the original post, but Odin's letter was meant for everyone to read.

Rose drank lightly from his cup of water, nursing it as the others did their alcohol while he listened to them speak. He eyed the others, having gotten more used to them but still uncomfortable spending such moments with people. This was his pack, but it seemed... pushed together. Some gardens had to be grown in such a way but it was usually obvious to any with a good eye. Either way, he was here and they were together. So he spoke.

"I am Horatio Rose. Former gangbanger and current uratha. I've done things, seen things, and whatever else it is that makes up a history. I turned in violence under a full moon. What else do you wanna know?"

He arched an eyebrow in expectation, waiting to see if anyone had a question as he sipped his water.

A few seconds ticked by as the others took in each Horatio's short statement. The air buzzed with an uncomfortable tension, like a live wire. Exposed. Waiting to be touched.

The sound of a key in a lock and everyone's attention was turned. The door opened on the mostly empty bar and the scent of perfume drifted on the wind.

A woman paused with her hand on the door, eyes taking in the odd mix of men sitting around the table. Sitting with her brother.

"Oh. Tonight was the night?" Winona DeWitt flashed a smile and stood up straight. The door banged closed and she waved a hand in the air.

"Don't mind me. I just forgot my phone in the back. I'll be out of your hair, boys. Won't even know I was here."

She paused for a brief moment next to her brother and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Strange bunch of guys you collected," she whispered. She gave each one a brief glance all while flashing a bright white smile.

She paused, just a second longer, upon Horatio. He noted a smirk, a slightly raised brow.

She vanished back behind the bar and in just a few seconds came back out with a phone tapping away.

"These girls..." she shook her head in exasperation. "College girls are the main reason I DON'T want to go back to school. Heads filled with air and not much else."

"You boys have a good night."

Storyteller Note:She dips out here, but feel free to write in an interaction before she goes if you want.

Horatio eyed the newcomer, not unimpressed by her looks but unmoved. He had seen everyone else here and already judged their nature as a threat or ally but she was new. Instinctively, he used his gift as a Rahu to judge her before letting any other thoughts cross his mind. Of course, this was her home more than his but still, it was good to know. He returned her stare when she settled her gaze and raised her brow. He had no malice in his look, only the respect given to someone in their home to know that he was appraising. At last, he nodded to her and returned his attention to the others at the table.

Christian looked up from his tablet long enough to watch Winona stroll through, and grinned as he watched Horatio and Winona eye each other. Once Winona was out of the room, Christian set his tablet aside and took in a long breath. He knew his habit of talking alot and mostly all in one shot if it wasn't a one liner.

   "Well I don't know where in the Hells you have been keeping that one, but damn. There more of that kinda stock around here?"  Christian rattled off, mouth overriding brain as usual. "Well I guess I've seen meets like this on t.v. before, so here goes." Christian did his best to channel what he though an infomercial voice-over guy would sound like at an AA meeting. "Hi! My name is Christian Thorne and I am also an addict, I mean werewolf. I enjoy long walks on the beach, hate cats, love my twins and am really really really good at finding out things that people don't like to be known. For you uninitiated out there, that translates to being a really good facebooker and google searcher. Like epic level."

"Anyways," Christian now reverting back to his normal voice, "I already know all of you, you now know the important bits of me."

Christian went back to clicking away at his tablet

"I'm going to have to agree with Christian here," Jack remarked to Bastian, referring to Winona.

Where exactly had that man been keeping here? And to think the asshole tried to hook him up with a lesbian dating a four fingered version of Phyllis Diller. Of course he wouldn't have introduced his own sister to any of the men around the table with him either. He was thankful she was off to college and far away from Utah for him to worry about. Of course he'd gladly fly across the country to smash in some frat boys face if she ever felt the need to call and complain about such problems. Jack nursed his beer and smirked before he spit into his dip cup as his mind went every which way that night.

"Well, that makes Dean, Bastian, Horatio, and Christian spoken for," Jack remarked as he realized the table had come full circle to himself. "Am I supposed to say some shit now?"

Dean was surprised at Winona's arrival. Pleasantly surprised. Her scent was sweet and cut through the slight aroma of alcohol that seeped from the bar. It didn't take the blessing of the Lunas to see the look of interest in her eyes as they fell upon Horatio. I can see why Bastian failed to mention her during the few times we had interacted. Perhaps Dean will capture the interest of a similar beauty in this town one day. He was a little sad to see her go, but he would see her again. After she left, he turned his attention to Horatio.

Dean shrugged,"Chicks dig scars I guess. You lucky dog."

He then took a shot before continuing.

"Well my dear sniper. You can say anything you like about yourself. We are all fairly aware of your combat skills." He glances over at Christian," Some more intimately than others. Or you can ask any of us questions if you'd like. I imagine that all this may be a little bit of a shock. Walking around on all fours, the urge of the hunt, the rage...It all seems so natural doesn't it?"

"You don't know shit, Worst."

Horatio took another swig of his water without explaining before continuing.

"But he is right on at least one thing. If you have questions, this is the time to ask. Any of you. I am not convinced yet that we are a pack, but this is as close as it gets for us right now."

Storyteller Note: Slipping a few posts in here and there just to add flavor and a bit of information.


The Ralunim came to life behind Horatio’s eyes and gifted their insight. As Winnie moved away, the Rahu blinked away the flared image and knew…

Alone, she would be easy to kill. She poses no physical threat. Yet, something about her, a bristling violence just beneath the surface. Wolf-blood, but more…

Horatio was left with the sensation that there was far more he could not see.

**

“College girls…” Winnie lied, but Bastian knew her, had known her all his life, and though the others might not pick up on the subtle change in posture, he could see it. Defeat. Pain. Sadness. Cary cancelled yet another night of visitation, Bastian thought and knew he could do nothing about it.

Not tonight.


**

The electric hum, that buzz of tension, still hung in the air. The words, the information, the forced camaraderie, belied the sense of the unknown hanging before them.

Jack felt it…
He didn’t know these people. These men. His so-called pack. But the instant that thought crossed his mind he remembered the empty face of Luna as she stared into his bared soul. He remembered the great bear as it slunk back in defeat. Most importantly, he remembered the others.

There are others. A lot of other wolves. And most of them probably want to kill me. These…People…don’t. This pack wants to help.

Jack looked at the others with fresh eyes.

Horatio felt it…
Something about the woman wouldn’t leave his mind. It stuck in his animal brain, but he forced it aside. The others were not as connected to the spirits of nature as he. Nor did they understand the truth of territory as well. But he felt it as he looked around the bar. From the instant he had walked into the place, it enveloped him in its embrace.

He might not own this place, but Bastian did. And if they were a pack that made it a part of his home.

His territory.

Christian felt it…
He pecked at the tablet with his air of mockery. A ping at the bottom reminded him he had a message, messages perhaps. At least one from the Silent Howlers. Another begging plea. That pack was desperate to have him, yet another Iron Master to add to their ranks.

But these men, at this table, they were not desperate. They might not even want him here.

Christian grinned inwardly. That thought made him want to stay all the more.

Dean felt it…
There were ghosts in this bar. They were waiting to be uncovered just like the ghosts in these men’s lives.

The words of the elder Odin whispered like an itch tickling across his mind. The pack must form and you must guide them.

That was enough.

And Bastian felt it.

Crash. Winnie. The Legendary failing to protect their territory. The pure on the edge, creeping inward. The city holding its breath as yet another pack of wolves answered the call. The Shadow Realm seeping into the world.

The weight of the world upon his shoulders.

A job to do.

He let the comments about Winona come and go without response. There would never be a time when Bastian didn't have an urge to protect his sister, but he was mature enough to know she could make her own decisions. Cary had been one of those decisions. It had started out so well ...

The big man felt the fury begin to well up in his belly, but he was able to suppress it for now. Tonight was not about her. It was about them.

"Look, we all know a little bit more about each other now. He's the worst, he's a hobo, and he's a nerd. We know that you drop motherfuckers with a gun, and we've got a decent idea of what a New Moon cub is prone to do. Anything else you want us to know, you tell us now."

"I feel like this whole city is about to get real fucked up real fast, so the quicker we start acting like a single entity, the better. When those motherfuckers out there," he gestured pointedly to the windows of the Dutchman, "whether they are spirits, Forsaken, Pure, or god damned aliens, when they step to us, we will put them in their place. This fuckin' town is ours." The last comment was punctuated with his palm slamming flat against the table, hard enough to rattle the glassware.

After the words left his mouth, he realized that it was Atlas talking now, not Bastian ... and he liked how that felt.

Dean felt inspired by the large man's words. They were the words of an alpha, of a leader. He could feel parts of Odin's letter in his mind reverberating.

The Pack must form and you must guide it.

They were a pack of misfits, but that was their strength. Dean already knew that he wasn't destined to be the alpha of the pack. He could tell that Bastian was going to fit that role well. His role would be that of advisor and judge of morality for the pack. They would all figure out how to mesh together as a pack.

Dean slammed back another shot," Damn it you're right! As a new pack we all have targets on our backs. We got each other to depend on regardless of whether we like it or not. In the words of my tribal elder..."

You are no Man. You are of the People. With the People, there are Packs.

Some of us are from broken pasts, thrown together after the shattered remnants are scattered to the winds.

Some join because of family, plucked out of humanity when we discover a father, mother, a distant relative who belonged to the People. Who came for us when we were given our Blessing.

Others survived alone for a time, but gradually came to discover others of their kind and forged a bond.

There are as many ways to forge the bonds of pack as there are members of the People.

For as many packs that have a purpose, there are purposes without a pack. Especially here, in this city, in this chaos. This mortal realm and its shadow combine to create more purposes than we, the People, could ever manage.

We try. We do so by forging the bond of pack and working together. We shape our world. We police it.

You are of the People.

You are the People.

You are pack.

"I believe in these words to the fullest and will stake my honor to uphold these ideals above all. I am the Worst, but this does not apply to how I uphold the Oath and apply judgement to those that would break it. I am not the strongest or the most cunning, but there isn't a damn thing in this world that I would allow to hurt this pack without death to hold me back."

His resolve in his words was absolute, and he looked around the table for anyone to challenge his sincerity.